Second Chance
by geanie
Summary: A sequel to "Opportunity," years afterward.
1. Old Acquaintances

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with "The Famous Jett Jackson."  
  
  
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She did a mental checklist of her appearance before joining the line. Smoothing down the front of her skirt, she casually looked around. No one seemed familiar and likewise nobody recognized her.  
  
Feeling more antsy than she expected, she saw the building looming ahead. The labeled entrance brought a smile to her face. Gymnasium. How long had it been since she'd last seen it? Prom maybe? No...she frowned. ((Remember...you missed that.))  
  
She neared the front of the line. It was manned by someone that tugged at her memory, a gentleman with glasses and grey hair that looked out of place.  
  
"Well well...Miss Kayla West. Or perhaps your name has changed since then?" The elderly man greeted her, his eyebrows lifting inquiringly.  
  
Her eyes wide, she blurted without thinking. "Mr. Dupree! You're still here!"  
  
His pleased expression didn't change, which she was grateful for and at the same time couldn't remember seeing much of in his class. "Of course I'm here. How else would I get the opportunity to see the product of my utterly senseless torture?"  
  
The same Southern drawl addressed her. "Oh Mr. Dupree, don't say that. It was an enjoyable class really, absolutely essential to our..." She searched for the words but he waved away her attempt.  
  
"Kayla now, you're not here to appease your old teachers. Remember we've passed you already. Though if I can recall correctly, you never were a problem."  
  
"Thank you, sir." The term of respect slipped out and she felt she had gone back in time ten years. She watched him thumb through the pile for her name tag.  
  
"Ah here we are. Miss West, it still is?" His pen lifted to make any necessary corrections.  
  
"Yes, that's right."  
  
A nod and warm smile dismissed her. "It's very nice to see you again, Kayla. Have a good time at the reunion."  
  
  
  
  
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REALLY sorry for the wait. Had a block going on. But now with school back, what better way to procrastinate than with some fic-writing? ;o) 


	2. A Change in Plans

Disclaimer: I'm in college and living off of top ramen. Nowhere close to owning "The Famous Jett Jackson."  
  
Note: Maybe I should have mentioned it earlier. It's probably a good idea to read Opportunity first before  
continuing with this story.  
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Her heels clicked against the waxed tiles of the gym's foyer. They echoed so loud because she was  
alone and she didn't feel any reassured by the fact. The rest of the night stretched out before her like a  
mystery. Would it be like that short encounter with Mr. Dupree, a pleasant surprise, some polite small  
talk, hurrying away to the next person she hadn't thought about for years.  
  
((Why do you care so much? It's a high school reunion, everyone's nervous. You're not any different.))  
The thoughts battled to convince her but she knew better.  
  
True, she hadn't completely transformed from her high school days. She was still an artist. Her ability  
had developed and matured and brought her a satisfying career. It was what she loved and getting paid  
was a nice bonus. Art was her life, as cliche as it sounded.   
  
Maybe that's why post-high school turned out completely different from what she expected. She imagined  
herself becoming an art teacher and staying in Wilted forever. Kayla wasn't stupid. Art didn't offer many  
options toward a stable profession. The farm would always be nearby and she'd be able to help her  
parents whenever they needed it. Then the end of senior year rolled around and she was offered a  
chance of a lifetime.  
  
Her parents encouraged her to take the scholarship. It was admittedly more what they alone could afford  
to pay for a college education. And deep inside, she knew she really wanted it. There was the  
recognition, the financial support, and the possibility to travel.  
  
New York City. It was music to her ears, brought stars to her eyes, every corny saying you could think of.  
There she'd be able to meet a lot more people just like her. Be a part of something she could never find  
in Wilsted. Going there that one time with JB and Jett was just a teasing taste of it.  
  
But Jett. The look on his face when he heard was...hard to read. She tried telling him delicately because  
she knew what he wanted after high school. He'd enroll part time in North Carolina University and fly to  
Los Angeles or whatever location whenever he got a job. If that's what it took to stay close to his family  
and friends, he was going to do it. "For you, I'd do anything." The words brought such a warmth that she  
knew any future winters would feel like a breezy walk in the park.  
  
That's why his reaction was difficult for her.   
  
"New York? You're going to college in New York?" His voice cracked, immediately followed by a clearing  
of his throat.  
  
"Yeah--well no. I'm not sure yet. I mean, the scholarship is really good and it'll cover my entire time there.  
But you know..."  
  
He knew. They both knew. A year and a half wasn't enough for them. That's how long they'd been  
together since that night in the library. Not after they had liked each other since day one of his return to  
Wilsted. Not after getting over their silly shyness and refusal to accept their true feelings. They'd only just  
discovered that being best friends and boyfriend and girlfriend weren't too far apart from one another.  
  
They were in love.  
  
Nevertheless, Jett managed to muster up the words days later. "Take it. It's your dream to be an artist.  
Nothing should stand in your way of being one."  
  
Now, about to enter the gymnasium, Kayla felt her last few memories of WHS rushing back. The  
messiness of it all. The abrupt goodbyes.  
  
"That's it. Enough overanalyzing, West. Just go in there. And if you see him..."  
  
She didn't finish her little pep talk because the gym door suddenly swung wide open. 


	3. Newfound Friends

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with "The Famous Jett Jackson."  
  
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The person standing in the doorway in front of her stared back. The fact that she couldn't  
identify him was both relieving and embarrassing, because he obviously recognized her. A smirk  
on his lips and a glint in his eye, he said, "Well hi there, Kayla. The last I remember of you is  
the day we had a rumble in the park."  
  
Rumble? She'd never fought anyone in her life, definitely not a man his size. Or did he say  
tumble? She sheepishly blinked at the thought and dismissed it, again considering his physique.   
He was big enough to play professional football.  
  
And it clicked. "Tank!" She couldn't utter another word because he hurried over and picked her  
up, hugging her in a circle. It was unexpected to say the least and she squealed in surprise. The  
bully in him had somehow turned into a jolly man over the years. When he let her down, she  
gasped for air and gestured toward him. "Look at you! I know I beat you into a pulp that day but  
now I just can't imagine it!"  
  
He chuckled. He had easily grown well over six feet and was so broad that it looked like he wore  
shoulder pads beneath his suit. "Oh come on. If you had really beaten me up, would I have  
finished high school with that stupid nickname? Tank...I tell ya, I haven't heard that since senior  
year."  
  
Kayla couldn't see anyone calling him anything else. "What IS your real name?" She stepped  
ahead as he pointed toward the door.  
  
He answered matter-of-factly. "Theodore."  
  
She laughed and let him guide her inside, taking his offered arm.  
  
"I don't even remember why you pushed me that day. At the park. Weren't you with Jackson?"   
He looked at her curiously.  
  
The music playing inside the gym burst through her ears. She pretended not to hear the question  
and ignored the pang she felt within her as he led her to the refreshment table.  
  
  
  
******  
  
  
  
  
Soft jazz floated out of the speakers. He bobbed his head to the slow rhythm, his eyes fixed on  
the road exposed by the front headlights. Outside it was a dark evening but he still remembered  
what the few lampposts on Wilsted's streets allowed him to see. There were the numerous  
picket fences...the sidewalk that led to school...the wooden benches...all the small, insignificant  
things that he thought he'd forget but just couldn't. This was Wilsted, his hometown. He'd  
always be a part of it. Stardom or no stardom.  
  
The song ended and a line of commercials started to play. He extended a finger and clicked off  
the radio. Back when he was a kid, he would have easily switched to the closest rap station.  
Would've wanted to hear the newest sounds to mimic on his own turntables. ((What did I ever  
do with those things?)) He found himself turning the car onto the high school parking lot.  
  
He parked and turned off the engine. So this was it. Ten years after high school. His palms began  
to sweat unexpectedly and they slid off the wheel. ((Why you so nervous? You've got a lot to  
show for yourself.)) He knew it...must-see-TV viewers knew it...heck, even independent film  
directors/writers knew it. Jett Jackson was an incredibly well-rounded, accomplished individual.  
  
Still, there was something about going back to see all the people you used to see day in, day out  
in high school.  
  
((You know you gotta do it. Good thing you have that one person that can make you feel better  
about having to go.))  
  
He looked over to the passenger's side where that special person had fallen asleep. It had been a  
long trip back but thank goodness he had someone to go with. Feeling the confidence in him  
growing, Jett reached across to the other seat. 


	4. Reminiscing

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with "The Famous Jett Jackson."  
  
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JB was dreaming about it again. He couldn't help it. It was a night he could never forget. That was the night he found out how she felt about him.  
  
The cellar looked just as it did up til now. When they had gotten down the steps, he pulled on the bulb hanging from the ceiling and the small room was flooded with light. He found the shelves carrying the new shipment of flour, chuckling at his upcoming joke. She had to like this one.  
  
"Hey Riley. What kinds of flowers grow between your nose and your chin?"  
  
"Huh?" She wasn't listening and was looking up at the stairs instead.  
  
A bit deflated but shaking it off, JB repeated it.  
  
She shrugged and looked back up.  
  
"Tulips!" He waited for her giggly response. And waited some more. "Riley?"  
  
"JB, I think I heard something up there…"  
  
"What? Oh, probably just the wind. A draft comes through here, especially during this season. But don't worry. As long as it doesn't blow the door shut because then we'd be in for it. Those trick hinges…Pop said he'd fix them but I've lost count how many times I've heard him pounding and yelling away from down here and then I'd have to come and rescue…"  
  
His eyes widened and he hobbled up to check the door. Gulping, he found it hard to look at her in the eye while saying, "Yup, we're locked in."  
  
"You sure there isn't another way to get out of here? A window maybe?" Her eyes searched the walls.  
  
"Well, there's one that's a foot wide that you could squeeze through and then hit another four feet of snow if you feel like it. But my dad would kill me if we broke it." He weighed their options and it came to him, noticing the similarities between this situation and the one that Kayla and Jett had gone through. Just as he began to entertain the idea that this would have the same results, Riley snapped her fingers.  
  
"Oh, I've got it. We can just call up your house." She pulled a phone out of her back pocket.  
  
JB plastered a relieved smile on his face, absolutely faking it. Damn. Actors and their phones.  
  
She punched a button and held the tiny cell to her ear, waiting.  
  
"Hey," JB interjected. "You've got me on speed dial?"  
  
"Of course I do. You're one of my closest friends."  
  
A nice feeling crept up his chest and he asked, "Really?"  
  
She tore her attention away from listening to the ringing and gave him a confused look. "Yeah."  
  
"Oh…I never realized. I mean, I've only known you for so long…" For once, JB was at a loss for words.  
  
She smiled. "More than a year we've been friends, JB. In my line of work, that practically make us soul mates."  
  
He laughed but her analogy made that warm patch in his chest heat up even more. Her next move almost made him burst. Reaching out to touch his arm, she said, "Seriously though. I could never forget you…Hello?" She turned away then as someone in his house answered the phone.  
  
  
******  
  
  
  
"JB. Man, wake up, JB! We're here." He woke up then to be jostled on the shoulder by Jett.   
  
"Huh…?" One eye opened to see Jett, looking down at him expectedly.  
  
"I've come all the way down here for our high school reunion and you're asleep. You could show a wee bit more excitement." He was nagging. Another sign of his nervousness.  
  
Straightening in his seat, JB cracked his neck. Feeling more conscious now, he relayed back what Jett said and smirked. "I think you're plenty excited yourself."  
  
Avoiding his gaze, Jett spotted the old gymnasium and knew perfectly well what he meant by that. He ignored it though and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Hey, you've got it easy. You've been here since high school. You still see everyone and they know you."  
  
"Oh right. I'm the lucky one. Yes, poor Jett Jackson being cooped up in Hollywood all these years. Jett Jackson who's mingled with every celebrity, gone to all the glitzy glamorous shows, done who knows what with who knows who…"  
  
Before he could go on, and knowing that JB never really meant it when he said those things, Jett broke in. "You know that's not true. I'm glad to be back."  
  
JB grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "No kiddin. Come on, let's party."  
  
They got out of the car and walked across the dark parking lot up to the gym. A puff of steam fell out of his mouth as JB spoke into the cool night air.  
  
"So I was having that dream again."  
  
"Again?? You guys weren't even in your basement that long."  
  
Offended JB's voice got louder. "Hey, that was one magical hour!"  
  
"Not even. Plus, your parents were two minutes away." They climbed up the concrete steps and approached a table set up in the front entrance.  
  
"Yeah well…hey, I wonder what number I was on her speed dial." The question had never come to mind before.  
  
Jett rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just ask her? As soon as we get back, you can rush into your house, wake her up and ask something that was relevant about a decade ago. I'm sure she wouldn't mind that you just left her there."  
  
"It's not my fault we couldn't find someone to baby-sit the kids. And you know I'd have to go. Everyone would expect to see me, the local merchant. It's good for business…"  
  
His voice trailed off as the two made their way into the building. 


End file.
